


Control

by Ladycat



Series: Treasure'verse [5]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Age Play, Alternate Universe, Conditioning, Daddy Kink, Daddy!Kink, Dark, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-11 23:52:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1179430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladycat/pseuds/Ladycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Xander whines at the end of each breath, hips jerking towards Spike's touch. He's so trained this way, a pretty puppy who knows what this slow, soft stroking means, the first fizz of pleasure worming under his skin until Xander's hot for it, desperate and ready for whatever his betters want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> A very young Xander is bought by Spike and his father Giles. Contains a serious potential squick regarding pedophilia, so please don't read if that bothers you.

But maybe in Treasure'verse, where Spike is slowly, carefully training Xander into being such a good boy, a sweet, obedient boy that loves being taken as much as he and Dad love to take him. He's particularly malleable when it comes to cleaning rituals, Spike discovers, purely by accident. The whys and wherefores of it aren't worth thinking about -- it'll make Spike too angry -- so he puts it out of his mind and concentrates washing a subdued Xander who doesn't even splash the bathwater he's soaking in, just concentrates on moving how Spike needs him to.

Even if it means twisting into painful contortions.

Sighing, Spike carefully puts his arm in the right place, flicks water in his face just to see him blink and pout, and begins draining the tub. "You know I don't like bruises I've not put on you," he says, mild as milk and tries not to be pleased when Xander goes a nice, cheery red. "Stop anticipating so much, love, I'll let you know what I want, all right?"

Xander's hair is too wet to cover his face, hanging in wavy, dripping clumps. "Yes, Spike."

Spike tucks the strands back, too amused to frown. "There's a boy, now. You're being very good, letting me take care of you like this, aren't you? It's a special boy that knows how clean he has to be, sweet for when his Dad or brother wants to play with him. Do you remember what we talked about?"

Xander's eyes dart towards the box sitting ominously on the table. "Uh huh," he says, a tiny bit breathless.

Spike smiles, leaning down for a short, distracting kiss. "Think you can do it all by yourself?"

Xander doesn't, it's clear from the muted terror in his eyes, but he nods gamely enough.

"Good boy. Go on, start, and I'll be back in a moment."

It's torture, pure torture, what Spike's doing, but he's grinning broadly when he dumps the wet towels in the hamper, catching Dad's amused look as he passes by the bedroom.

"Everything going well?" Dad asks, archly.

A soft groan comes from the bathroom. "Yeah, Dad. Hey, you don't mind if I -- "

Dad only shakes his head, returning to the paper. "Not at all."

Perfect. It's not that Spike _needs_ the permission, not really, but he'll certainly be glad he has it. Sometimes Dad can be... tetchy about a few things, and names and titles are very important to him. Spike isn't interesting in asserting some sort of right he has no idea he's asking for, so it's hardly any skin off his nose to check first.

By the time he's back to the bathroom, the messy, inconvenient part of the procedure is taken care of. Xander's naked, golden skin dyed almost burnt amber by the red warming light above him, his face pinched into tense concentration as his bottom flexes over and over, struggling to hold it inside him.

" _There's_ a boy," Spike coos, flowing over Xander who, despite being taller and heavier, scrunches down so that Spike can get his arms around him, his head tucked underneath Spike's chin. "Easy, pet, there's a _good_ boy. I know how awkward it feels, pet, but you've got to hang on. You can do that for me, right? Tell me you can, pet."

Xander nods, whimpering slightly when Spike's hand cups his distended belly and starts to rub. It's got to be agony, but it's the best kind and Spike knows how to ensure Xander will appreciate it.

"Say it, love, say you'll do this for me?"

"Yes, Spike," Xander says, breathy and soft like the finest down, shivering in Spike's hold. His body doesn't know how to handle the sensations, and he's such a malleable thing that it makes it almost simplistic.

Tucking Xander in so Spike can still leave his hand warm and solid over the boy's tummy, he drops his left hand down to cup between the boy's legs, fondling his cock until it begins to perk, rising up to the slow, familiar strokes.

"There, see?" Spike says, low and a little taunting. "That's a good boy, a randy little boy you are. So good, though, holding it tight inside. You'll wait the full five minutes, won't you? Of course you will, pet, that's it. Feels good, doesn't it, the way it hurts but it doesn't, shhh. That's it, such a good boy."

Xander whines at the end of each breath, hips jerking towards Spike's touch. He's so trained this way, a pretty puppy who knows what this slow, soft stroking means, the first fizz of pleasure worming under his skin until Xander's hot for it, desperate and ready for whatever his betters want.

"Look at that cock," Spike whispers, kissing his hair, "look how proud it stands up. Soon you'll be begging for me this, pet, wanting to be so clean and sweet inside. You're doing so good, such a good thing for us, isn't it? Gotta keep my boy sweet, water and skin and nothing else, for whatever we want. Say it, pet."

Xander shudders, body rebelling against the uncomfortable position, but he controls himself, eyes squished down into slashes of brown eyebrow and folded skin. "I like being clean," he says, and it's almost there, so close.

"I'm going to lick you, pet, taste just how clean you are for me, and you'll squirm and writhe and whimper like a good boy. You're a good boy, aren't you, pet? That's it, almost there."

Xander's constantly rocking now, torn between the dual stimulation of ultimate comfort and the ultimate discomfort. His body is totally in control by now, just as Spike and Dad have planned, and it's like the final puzzle piece sliding into place when Xander nuzzles in even closer and says, "Trying, Daddy, trying."

Perfect.

Spike rides a wave of bliss as Xander empties himself as discreetly as he can, then repeats the procedure twice over. By the last time he's glassy-eyed and panting as Spike pushes his shoulders down, thumbing him open for the last dose of it, moaning with dazed happiness as he's filled again.

"Such a perfect little boy," Spike says, reaching around to rub his tummy over and over because Xander likes that, like it so much that he says, "Daddy, oh Daddy," and pushes back like it's Spike inside him, or Dad, because both of them are Daddy now, exactly as it should be.


End file.
